


Weasley Is Her King

by Silver Lioness (Rumpels_Darker_Dearie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Argumentative Couple, F/M, Fluff, HEA, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Inter-House Relationships, Loving Molly, Loyal Ron - Freeform, Mild Language, Proud Arthur, Secretive Hermione, Supportive Ginny, Supportive Harry, giftfic, mild sexual references, old fashioned views, rare pairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 04:34:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13803504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumpels_Darker_Dearie/pseuds/Silver%20Lioness
Summary: When Pansy Parkinson walked into Weasley Wizard Wheezes she does not expect to walk out with the promise of a date. After the worst first date in the history of ever, she does not expect Ronald to ask her out again. For three months things go swimmingly until old fashioned sacred-28 values rears its ugly head.When the arguments escalate their friends and family are at their wits end, only, really - all it takes is Pansy's father himself to cause Ronald to confront his heart...





	Weasley Is Her King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandraSempra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandraSempra/gifts).



> GIFT FIC For Sandra Sempra for the #Lovefest2018 rare pair group on Facebook.
> 
> Un Beta'd.
> 
> First attempt at RONSY.

** Weasley Is Her King **

 

They had been fighting again, Ron and Pansy had always had the most media entertaining relationship out of the trio. The Daily Prophet fed on their argumentative natures. Ron, for once, was centre stage in a media storm. For once the boy-who-lived had become the man-who-married-got-a-steady-job-and-became-a-father the paparazzi grew bored of him.

Now Harry was happily married to Ginny and loved every minute of being in a stable relationship for the first and _only_ time in his life. They worked as a team, everyone could see that. Nothing could come between the Auror and Quidditch star. 

The third member, Hermione Granger was tight-lipped over her relationship, but no one doubted her word that she was involved in one. She often held minor headlines by being seen in company of various wizards, but she was only seen with them once and that was it. So, once again, the gossip columnists had to go back to their speculations.

Currently: Harry, Ginny, and Hermione had gathered in the comfortable lounge in Grimmauld Place, the Potter’s town house residence, their hands wrapped around their coffee mugs debating about what to do with their friend and brother. This was a weekly occurrence and, so far, nothing had been suggested that held any merit. One evening, Hermione checked her watch and said she had to go for her date. The Potter’s swapped looks with each other.

“Any time you will tell us who the mystery man is, Hermione?”

All she did was blush and made a big show of checking that everything was in her handbag before she stepped out of the house and apparated goodness knows where and to whom.

“Do you think she is seeing someone she knows we disapprove of?” Harry asked.

“Quite frankly, Harry Potter, I could not care less. She is happy, and maybe we should make more of an effort to make sure her choice is welcomed,” his wife said. Silently, Harry nodded in agreement. “Good, now, get out of the way I have to bake Victoire’s birthday cake.”

“Do not make eet too fatty, Geeny, my little bon couer needs to be thin, yes?” Harry mocked, his hand on his heart in dramatic fashion.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her husband’s antics – this was the Harry that should have been – not the one who had a living piece of Tom Riddle inside him. She let a small smirk slip her lips, but she turned serious once more: “Hilarious, Harry, if you cannot be useful, I suggest you go upstairs and check on James.”

“Aye aye, Captain!”

His wife laughed as she walked to the kitchen, her hips swaying almost mesmerising Harry in their sinewy movements. His eyes momentarily darkened with lust before he had to go up stairs to see if James was well.

But this story is not about a happily married couple. That would be boring, dear readers, I do not wish to bore you my darlings.

No, this story is about the more contentious, unconventional pairings ever to be seen in magical Britain since…well…never, really.

This tale is one about the two people mentioned at the start – remember them? No, I shall remind you.

Their names are Ronald Bilius Weasley and Pansy Florentine Parkinson.

History will always agree that Ron Weasley was loyal, intelligent, and when he was genuinely happy, and the sun glinted on his hair and eyes it added some sort of _je ne sais quoi_ about him, was engaging and kind. His freckly face held dimples when he smiled. Thick, wavy red locks curled and twisted around his face and neck like tendrils of fire licking the wood feeding it below, his sparkling blue eyes shone like sapphires in the haze of summer. His laugh was infectious, and his ability to make others laugh along with him endeared him to many. 

She had not meant to walk into the shop and come out with a date. Pansy only went in there because, ironically, Weasley Wizard Wheezes came up with some of the best beauty treatments this side of Dublin and it was her Godson's birthday coming up so she wished to buy him presents. Pansy had, like her name suggested, blossomed since her days as a Hogwarts student. Her features no longer resembled an angry pug dog but were womanly and soft now.

Her eyes drifted over towards the beauty charms that had sent her friend, Daphne in a frenzy, saying that Neville could not keep his paws off her for one moment – Pansy could never understand what her friend saw in the Gryffindor oaf, but they were happily married and setting up their own Herbologist store with a side-section for potions; for Neville had gone into partnership with Severus Snape, who had survived thanks to Hermione Granger’s and Narcissa Malfoy’s efforts. 

Whilst she was deep into her own self-pity of not having a special someone to justify spending so many galleons on these pretty, pink products she did not notice the sound of approaching steps, neither did she feel a tap on her shoulder. So, when a cough jolted her out of her melancholy, she was startled and clumsily dropped what she was hold – red powder erupted from the broken pot covering her head-to-toe in blusher. The man behind her coughed as some of the product landed in his mouth, his eyes watered, it took another customer to clear up the mess and make sure they were all right.

“Parkinson,” the sales representative said coldly when his throat was cleared fully.

Sharply, Pansy turned on her heel and looked up at the person who had embarrassed her so: “Weasley,” she greeted just as stiffly.

“You here to buy because if you’re not I would suggest you move along so that those who do, can get to the items.”

“I have other establishments and brands I am much more loyal too, thank you. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” she flicked her long dark hair over her shoulder coquettishly, before sticking her face up in the air, she was about to flounce past him when she remembered the original reason she had stepped into the cursed store. “I am buying for a friend’s son,” she sighed with exasperation as if doing her own shopping was a chore. “He’s three, so nothing too dangerous…”

“Right this way,” he said stepping aside spreading his arm out in invitation for Pansy to go to the correct aisle for pre-five-year-old Wizards and Witches. “As you know the lad I shall leave you to it.”

“Please don’t – I am a right dunce with children – please,” she said suddenly as she caught his robes with her hands, as well as a whiff of mint and lemon from the man himself. “I just need some advice from someone who does like children.”

“All right come on then,” he said with a charming smile. 

Pansy and Ron had spent the best part of half-an-hour picking out a veritable feast of joyful treats for the little boy and, when she had paid, Ron had shocked them both and asked her out! Her agreement to meet for drinks later in the week equally stunned the pair.

Their first date was awkward. A stuttering and sporadic conversation over drinks in The Leaky Cauldron. Side-long gazes and lots of coughing with intermittent: “I’m fine;” and, “Are you sure?” punctuated the atmosphere with invisible ellipses and uncomfortable semi-colons. Pansy had thought that was that, it was one of her worst dates in history.

To her shock and surprise, she received an owl a week later from Ronald asking her out a second time, a muggle date this time. Although she was not the same girl she once was at school she was still sceptical of anything muggle. However, these things called Films _did_ sound intriguing to her.

It was an interesting the film choice. Peter Pan, the child who refused to grow up. She had to admit to coming out of the movie theatre with a bit of a crush on Captain Hook and a little warmth in her belly for her date. He took hold of her hand as he guided her to a little Chinese restaurant afterwards. Once there, settled in their seats and waiting for their order to arrive, Ronald regaled her with tales of how he grew up. She listened with eager ears and watched with shining eyes as he described each and every exploit he could. It only made her dream of belonging to such a fun and loving house-hold. In short, Pansy was bowled over by Ronald’s colourful life and his enthusiasm to continue living in the vibrant hues of the rainbow. The second date was declared a success by both and they shared their first kiss outside the restaurant to a group of muggle teens who wolf-whistled at them causing them both to giggle and blush.

They were wondrously happy with each other for the first three months. But Pansy was a pureblood of the old order. There was to be no sex before marriage – when it became clear they were a couple, Pansy’s father put his foot down and insisted on a betrothal contract.

Pansy had _never_ been ashamed of her own father than she was in that moment. The Weasleys were kind and courteous and they managed to sign an amiable contract for their children to follow. The Parkinson’s still valued the Breach of Contract to ensure no shame occurred to his daughter.

This was when the arguments started between the couple. Hermione, who had become firm friends with Pansy, had told her not to expect too much responsibility on Ron’s part at first. It was Hermione who had to be the referee to their relationship quite often, often ensuing into further agitated dispute wherein one accused Hermione of taking the other’s part.

It was about now that Hermione sought advice from a shockingly charming quarter and her love-life, the most secretive of all, took part.

However, I have diverted, dear reader; please forgive me.

Let us back to our passionate couple.

Six months into their official courtship bought forth their most volatile argument of them all. 

“I KEEP TELLING YOU RONALD WEASLEY I WILL NOT HAVE SEX BEFORE MARRIAGE.”

“WHY NOT? I’VE SIGNED THE CONTRACT THAT SOMEDAY I WILL MARRY YOU, YOU SELFISH…”

“SELFISH?” Pansy screeched. “ME? Oh, you want to play that way, do you?”

“What way?” his tone may have lowered but his eyes still gleamed hostility towards Pansy’s stubbornly upturned face, eyes mirroring the same hate. “I ask you again, _what_ way?” 

“I was not the one who ran out on my friends when they needed me the most!” she exclaimed gesticulating wildly as if she was trying to punch the air. “I am not the one who abandoned my best friend over a bloody broomstick that may have been cursed by an enemy! I most definitely am not the one who…”

“You’re a Slytherin – you’re taught how to stab your own mother in the back before you can walk!”

Pansy’s ire was raised, her fists clenched on her hips, her feet planted defiantly as her face set in angry determination.

“So, we’re going back to petty school house rivalry, are we?” her voice as cold as the hoariest of winter days, ice sparkled every vowel, frost decorated each letter. “Fine, then you are just a stupid, lazy Gryffinbore!” 

“I am sorry that I seem to be such a disappointment to a daughter of the Sacred-bloody-28!” Ron yelled, his face turning purple with rage. His voice breaking when his passions were invoked.

“Unless you’ve forgotten, Ronald Weasley, you’re part of the Sacred-28 too!”

“At least I don’t act like a frigid snob because of it!”

“No, apparently Hermione had to show you where her clit was!”

Ron reeled back as if she had just slapped him in the face, his hurt puppy look had almost softened Pansy, but on this point,  she remained adamant. She was not going to give herself to a man until she was married. She held no jealousy over Hermione who was not held by the same rules and propriety of the Sacred-28. She was highly disappointed in Ronald Weasley, especially as his mother was from the Prewitt branch of the sacred tree, a family that did hold some social standing not too long ago and Molly still clung to some sort of semblance of mannerly etiquette despite the chaos surrounding her. After meeting her, Pansy had nothing but true respect for Molly Weasley.

“Look,” Pansy sighed unclenching her fists, she raised a hand to her brow and lightly massaged the middle of her forehead. “I think we should not see each other until we have calmed down. I will not give up my values just for you.”

“But…”

“No, Ron,” Pansy said harshly. “My body is my temple, and I will not give it to anyone who is not prepared to worship it properly.”

“Fine, have it your way then.”

“I intend to,” Pansy snapped as she picked up her bag and coat. Once she held her possessions, Pansy stormed out of Ron’s flat.

This, dear reader, leads us back to the beginning whereupon Ron’s friends and family gathered around to see what would tempt them back together. Ginny loathed seeing her brother this miserable and Hermione, who had grown overly fond of Pansy, despised seeing her friend in such a slump.

All Pansy did nowadays, was smoke her fine French cigarettes with a holder, and drink white wine in her boudoir lazing about in a variety of jewel toned acromantula silk pyjamas, her dark wavy hair flowed over her shoulders. Only Pansy Parkinson could make heartache look glamorous.

“Darling!” she enthused when Hermione walked through the door. “I am grateful you have come.”

“What will it take to get you out of this bed, Pansy?” Hermione asked bluntly. Prevaricating over the issue did no good in the past, so Hermione decided to pummel the metaphorical bush down the ground and come out with what was on her mind. “Come on, no matter what he said or did, you _know_ you love him.”

“Of course, I bloody love him,” she snapped. “I have loved him for a long time now. Longer than I cared to admit,” she softened her tone. “Though he can be such a…a…a…”

“I know,” Hermione said warmly grasping onto Pansy’s manicured hand. “ _Believe_ me, I know how he can be, but underneath all of the bluster and bluff is a sweet, intelligent Wizard who once he pledges himself to you – shall make you feel like a goddess.”

“You can marry him then.”

“No thank you, that is too close to incest for my liking,” Hermione wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I am quite happy with whom I am with.”

“You still won’t tell us who the wizard is,” Pansy sighed, “here I am with my heart breaking and you won’t even confide in me to cheer me up,” her oval eyes wide with anticipation, hoping her friend would bring her in confidence. “Please, Mia, you _must_.”

Pansy decided quite early on in their friendship that Mia was to be her pet name for Hermione, disliking the rather lazy ‘Mione, favoured by most of the Weasley clan, and the Potters, and the Longbottoms.  Hermione discovered she rather preferred Mia also and tried to remind their circle of her new nickname.

“He and I are not ready for a reveal just yet,” Hermione looked up with that small smile of someone who knows she is withholding salacious gossip that would feed someone like Pansy for a year or more. “Rest assured, he is treating me well, and I am falling more in love with him every day.”

“Trust you to keep a secret for this long,” Pansy sulked against her pillows taking another sip of wine, “you should have been a Slytherin. Whoever said you are a bad liar does not know you well.”

“I found the best lies have the element of truth in them,” Hermione countered.

“Definitely should have been in Slytherin.”

Hermione laughed at the pouting, petulant, expression on Pansy’s face. The witches talked for longer whilst drinking tea and eating cakes. Hermione hugged Pansy tightly in the covers and she burrowed her face in the warmth and comfort of the sheets. Pansy allowed Hermione to nap beside her, both their hands entwined over the covers. This was how Pansy’s father found them and he shouted at his daughter thus awaking her friend. Shortly, Hermione left blushing bright red at the accusations Mr Parkinson laid at her feet. If it was not for Pansy’s swift defence Hermione would have had her’s, and by default, her secret lover’s, reputation completely ruined.

It was _this_ incident that provoked Mr Parkinson to action. He wrote a strongly worded letter to Mr and Mrs Weasley whereupon the parents went out to dine with their feuding offspring. The contract stated firmly that they date for more than a year before any kind of recanting could take place on either side. No matter their proud hearts; they belonged to each other for a further three months.

The five people sat at the table in a rather swanky restaurant in the higher end of Diagon Alley. A rather new establishment built up by Hannah and her husband Blaise Zabini. It had already received rave reviews and was certainly booming tonight. Arthur fiddled about in his new robes that Fleur insisted he purchase when told he was coming here, he stretched his neck out from the tight collar. Molly noticed her husband discomfort but elbowed him to behave, whilst she demurely sat in her new mint green silk robes, sipping genteelly at her Pino Grigio. Arthur had his usual pint of ale. Mr Parkinson went for a Macon Rouge along with Ronald who had developed a taste for it at the many dinners he’d attended with Pansy. Pansy ordered her favourite Chardonnay.

“Now, Arthur, we are gathered here to discuss your son’s abominable behaviour towards my daughter.” 

“I do not think that my son has defaulted on the contract signed.”

“They have not been seen courting for over a month!” Mr Parkinson exclaimed.

Both Pansy and Ron were hoping someone would charm the floor to open wide and swallow them whole. The former wishing she had never insisted on a formal courtship, the latter wishing to escape the fury of his girlfriend’s father. Neither got their wish.

“That is because Ronald’s previous dating experience has been in a less formal manner,” Molly said. “His first girlfriend was the shameless Miss Brown, and his second was with our little Hermione Granger.”

“Oh yes,” Mr Parkinson sneered. “The mudblood I caught in bed with my daughter!" 

“It was not like that,” said Pansy between clenched teeth, her thin fingers curled tightly around the stem of her wine glass. It already held a strong imprint of her Gryffindor red lipstick. “Honestly, father, we’re friends that is all, it would be pretty awkward if we were lovers considering I am dating her ex.”

“It was indecorous Pansy,” her father growled.

“Our knowledge of Hermione is a lot more extensive than yours, Gerald,” Arthur jumped in, defending the girl he saw as a second daughter. “She would never do something indecorous or against another person’s wishes. Quite often she would share my daughter’s bed but in a sisterly manner. I am certain this is what occurred between Hermione and Pansy.”

“Arthur’s right, father, Hermione is a sister to me.”

“I do not trust a Witch who is not married at her age.”

“She is dating, father, a man.”

“So she says.”

“So what if she is a lesbian!” Ron exclaimed. “Hermione has been the truest, most loyal friend aside from Harry I have ever had – she helped us through a lot of problems. Instead of casting aspersions against my friends sexuality _perhaps_ we can discuss our Contract, which is why we are gathered here in the first place.”

Pansy glanced up and noticed, only now, how strong he was. How fierce he could be. How he would protect her when she was ill and laugh with her when she was sad and needed cheering up. However, it was only in that moment when Ron stood up to her father that she felt…loved! Desirable and wanted. Ronald was prepared to take this seriously and that meant everything to her. 

“Yes,” Molly agreed. “We had best stay on topic.”

Gerald Parkinson grimaced as he had to hold back his distrust of his daughter’s friend.

“Oh and Gerald, call Hermione that in my presence again and you will realise why Arthur means bear!” growled Arthur, Molly nodding as her eyes flashed fiercely with motherly affection, showing Gerald she was in accord with her husband on this issue. “I mean it, that word is not what you wish the world to hear right now, is it?”

Gerald shuffled in his seat propping the menu between him and the table. Gruffly, he ordered his meal when the waiter had arrived to take their orders. Ronald had tried to choose food that would not fatten him up too much. One thing Pansy said she liked about him was his trim figure and he wanted to keep it trim. His eating habits had been curbed by Pansy – he ate with a knife and fork, and delicately placed it in his mouth instead of diving in and gobbling everything in sight, which was one of the reasons he and Hermione did not work. She often showed her displeasure at his lack of table manners – he did not want to lose Pansy for the same reason and so he went to Draco who had patiently taught him the right etiquette for taking a pureblood out, what fork to eat with what meal, and how to seat a Lady. The two had formed a friendship that some found odd, but they bonded over Quidditch most of all, though found common ground in chess and reading material.

“This contract will become null and void if your son does not apologise to my daughter,” Gerald said as he placed his fork in his mouth.

“I already _am_ sorry,” Ron said as politely as he could muster for his hoped-for father-in-law. A love for Pansy was one poets once wrote about, painters chopped ears off their faces for and musicians developed stanzas for. “I am Pansy,” he said beseeching her to forgive him. She sighed and looked up at him through her eyelashes, her whole demeanour showed a lacking trust in his apology. “I did not mean to be a di…er,” he felt Molly’s eyes burn into his back. “I did not mean to be so defensive about that issue.”

His sincere apology was met with cold silence. The only sound was Pansy tapping her lovely nails against the body of her glass, a clear bell like sound echoed within. She pursed her lips, picked up her drink and lightly sipped at it before she thought of a response.

“I suppose I am sorry to, Ronald.”

This reply only served to put Ronald back on the defensive, but his reply was swallowed by his father: “What do you mean, you suppose…” 

“Has Ron informed you what he _demanded_ of me, the reason _why_ we are not talking to each other?” Both Weasley parents turned their confused gazes toward their blushing son. Gerald Parkinson brow furrowed so deeply it was debatable if the man ever smiled. Her eyes narrowed with disgust towards Ron. “No? You mean you did not inform your parents of the break in our relationship?” her sweet and sour tone was emphasised by her lopsided smile, revealing a dimple that Ron always enjoyed kissing. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as she swept them up and down his awkwardly shifting body in his seat. A laugh on her lips ready to come out. “Oh, this is just _embarrassing_ for you, is it not?” she tilted her head and drank more of her wine. “So, do you wish to inform our parents or shall I?” 

“I do not feel as if I requested anything abhorrent.”

“Anything abhorrent?” she clutched her heart dramatically and rocked in her seat with bubbling cold mirth, keeping the volume down but her body shaking in her seat was evidence enough of how funny she found the situation. “Oh my,” she wiped tears from her eyes carefully so as not to smudge her mascara. “Forgive me, Mrs Weasley…”

“Molly, dear, you may call me Molly.”

“Oh Molly, when you and Arthur were courting did your parents inscribe staunch rules into your contract?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Did you abide by them?" 

“I had to, Molly’s father said he’d put a horrific hex on the parchment.”

“You believed him?” Molly gasped. “Is that why…”

“Not here, Molly.”

“Quite,” Pansy agreed with Arthur, “although you are going to have to tell me another time, Molly.” 

“I shall, Pansy. So, what did Ronald do?”

“Parkinson’s sign contracts _after_ the parchment has been checked for hexes. My father did, the hex would not have harmed the male, but it would hold serious consequences for me. I had to keep my virtue otherwise I would suffer something terrible,” she turned to her courtier and smirked, reminding him of the girl whom he went to school with, rather than the woman he’d fallen for. He wondered if there was a curse on these robes to tighten around the neck as she drew out his torture for a little while longer. “Ronald, the man to whom I had pledged a year of my life too, a wizard who is supposed to protect, honour, and keep my virtue had asked me to sleep with him when we were only three months into our courtship. Of course,” she sighed in faux sadness. “I had to say no.”

Gerald squeezed his napkin tightly in his grasp: “Right,” he hissed, resembling something of a fat snake as he did so. “I feel that we are done. Pansy, you can consider your contract to this ruffian null and void.” 

With that, Pansy felt her father’s rough grip on her bicep as he viciously pulled her out of her seat, dragging some of the table cloth with him as he went. Not caring a jot that he was toppling over the wine and destroying Arthur and Molly’s almost untouched meal in the process. They stood up horrified at the gruff manner in which Pansy had been removed from her seat.

Chivalrous courage swelled in Ronald’s breast at the sight of Pansy, his wife-to-be, being dragged around in such a caveman like manner from an individual who ought to know better. Suddenly he pushed his chair to the floor as he rushed up without care of protocol or etiquette and grabbed hold of Pansy’s other arm. Growing up with five big brothers gave him an advantage. His strength far outweighed the older wizards and Pansy was now thrown behind him. She stumbled on her shoes and was caught by Arthur who then passed her to Molly for a comforting hug.

“I meant it, lad, if you think you’re going to lay eyes on my daughter again…”

“I think that’s up to Pansy, don’t you? I may not know much about the old ways, but I _do_ know how to love. I love your daughter!” 

“You should have taught your son how to talk to those better and wiser than him!” Gerald spat at Arthur. 

“You leave my parents out of this. My parents who along with Harry, Hermione and I fought a bloody Dark Lord – I watched my brother die – where were you when the Wizarding world needed you? Drinking snifters at the club?” Ron sneered. “Pansy was so frightened she was prepared to sell Harry out to the Dark Lord to protect herself and others – where were _you_ when she needed _you_ the most? If anyone is lucky enough to have her heart it’s you but that’s what families do, they forgive – they love, they do not hold grievance. I love Pansy with my heart, my soul, my mind, my strength – she told me her body is a temple to worship,” his blue eyes hardened like arctic ice into Gerald’s weak stare, his lips trembled in fear. “I _more than_ worship her body – I built a shrine in my heart dedicated to Pansy, I light candles in my mind for her wit and humour, I will crawl on hot coals if I have to, to gain her forgiveness. I will _break every bone_ in my body, regrow them, crush them to pieces and pour salt on my wounds if she asked me to. I have _never_ ,” he turned around and gazed upon Pansy’s shining face, everyone could see the glow of love seep through every pore on her countenance, “ _never_ loved anyone as I adore her!” 

Molly’s eyes were welling with tears, Arthur drew himself to his full height, his chest sticking out with pride for his son. Pansy wanted so much to rush into Ron’s arms but she was suitably outwardly poised even if Molly did feel the vibrations of her emotion through their tightly held hands. 

“I’m supposed to be moved by this, am I?” 

“Lavender was _nothing_ to me. Hermione was a _mistake_. But you,” he suddenly dropped to his knees and scuffled closer to her on them. “Pansy…”

“Ron what…” she stared around slightly embarrassed by this public show. “Get up you fool.” 

“Fool for you, Pansy, or to put it another way; I fall for you every time I see your eyes light up with joy, I love you a little bit more when you laugh, when I see you with children at the shop. Because, no matter how much you want to deny it, you are _wonderful_ with them and they love you in turn. You would be a lovely mother – I want children. I want _our_ children.” 

“Get up, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“If being in love is ridiculous then yes, I am ridiculous. Only because you make me so. Pansy, darling, I don’t want to wait three months – I do not want to wait three weeks not even three minutes – I want you with every good and pure thing in my body.”

Pansy could not help herself and she giggled. Tenderly, she framed each side of his earnest face with both her hands, gently wiping his tears away from his eyes. Her own tears dropped onto his cheeks and lips as she also knelt on her knees to be eye level with him, she tugged on his long wavy locks to pull his face so close to hers. So close that their breaths mingled between them, warming each other’s lips, an almost kiss hung in the air.

“I love you too, you idiotic, silly wonderful wizard,” she burst forth with emotion, for once not caring about appearances, allowing her make-up to run down her cheeks and smudge into her neck if it had too, to show she was genuine. “Remember that song I wrote?” 

“How could I forget?” he sniffed and laughed at the same time. 

“I wrote that because, even then, I had a crush on you – you looked so good on a broom and I was angry at you. I have loved you since school and it has only taken me until _now_ to realise that. Ronald Weasley – I WILL marry you, because you are indeed, king of my heart!” 

They embraced each other in the restaurant; Gerald Parkinson looked as if he was about spontaneously combust right there with indignation if Molly had not urged them to stop. The couple were trembling violently with unshed love as they kept kissing whilst Arthur and Molly eased them to their feet. Once they had broken apart they heard the sounds around them of exultant cheers and celebrations as Hannah and Blaise walked out with celebratory drinks on the house – on Blaise’s silver tray sat a velvet green box. Inside, was the Prewitt ring, given to those with Prewitt strength in their veins, Ronald was more Prewitt than Weasley. The gold band held a red heart edged with individual rubies and diamonds, an emerald formed the centre stone. It suited the couple so well, and Pansy buried her exultant joy in her fiancé’s shirt, drying her tears on the fabric. Ron stood there proudly, soothing Pansy by stroking her silken locks, an activity that had calmed him down too. 

Three months later Pansy and Ronald married on VW2 Day on the grounds of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch pitch – with Severus officiating. It was the day after that the newspapers ran the headlines and exposé of the lives and loves of the Golden Trio…

Who was Hermione seeing?

That, my dear reader, is another story!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this Sandra, I spent the best part of a day and night on this story xx


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